Sanctuary

Hinges whisper-creek

as she tiptoes out of the room,

the warm gloss from goodnight

still fresh on the tongue.

Two tears slide shyly

down her cheeks,

so often streaked.

They pour over and plummet

as I kneel in the dim room,

arms open.

I hold her,

feel her knotted strands,

so soft, until

she sighs, says goodnight

and reinserts herself into covers.